


Intentions

by moodymarshmallow



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Implied Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-10
Updated: 2014-04-10
Packaged: 2018-01-18 20:19:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1441510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moodymarshmallow/pseuds/moodymarshmallow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shea Hawke finds Isabela at Anders' clinic. All he wants is a place to sleep, but Isabela, and Anders, want more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Intentions

Anders looked exhausted, that much was expected, but what made Shea Hawke stop in the doorway to the clinic, under the lit lantern, was that Isabela was sitting on Anders' desk. Her long, shapely legs were crossed, her boots crumpled over one another on the ground in front of her as if she'd kicked them off and let them fall carelessly into a leather heap. Anders was sitting on a barrel turned chair, holding an earthenware mug without a handle in one hand, holding the other next to the cup, a warm red glow emanating from his palm. The comfortable calm between them gave him pause, and he stood silently in the doorway until Isabela caught a glimpse of him out of the corner of her eye and beckoned him into the clinic.

"I'm surprised you're here," he said once he approached, taking the chair when Isabela kicked it out from under the desk, offering it to him. He picked up her boots and set them on the table next to her before he took the offered seat, resting his ankle on his knee as he leaned against the back of the chair.

"Why's that, honeybee?" Isabela asked, shifting to rest her weight on the hand closest to him. He realized then that they were sharing a basket of plain biscuits. Not Hightown quality, but not something one usually saw in Darktown. Seeing his eyes on the basket, Anders lifted it and proffered it to him, smiling gently when he took one of the flat, crumbly biscuits.

"Well, Darktown," he said, shrugging.

"He has a point," Anders said with a tired smile. "Most people don't come down here intentionally when they have better places to be."

"I live at the Hanged Man." Isabela snapped a biscuit between her fingers and brushed the crumbs off of her freckled leg. "And Shea lives with his weasel of an uncle. It might smell a little worse down here, but at least I don't have to worry about anyone ogling my tits." Pausing, Isabela offered Shea an exaggerated wink. "You can ogle them all you want. I like you."

Shea's ears burned as he looked down at his biscuit, trying to ignore the soft chuckling.

"Don't make the poor boy blush," Anders said, his tone light and jovial. "He's got enough on his mind as it is."

"I'm not a boy," Shea said firmly, thin, neat brows furrowing until his smooth forehead wrinkled just above his nose. "I may be young, but I'm the head of my family." He swallowed, unconsciously reaching for the collar of his jerkin, where Carver's black button was sewn.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything by it." With an apologetic smile, Anders stood and went for the small tea pot that had been previously hidden from Shea's view. "Can I offer you a drink?"

"No, I just...I was wondering if I could borrow your back room for a little while. I can't sleep in that house again," Shea lowered his head, his cheeks red again. It was hard to prove he was the man of the house when the creaking walls and Gamlen's coughing kept him up all night. Without answering, Anders beckoned Shea and led him to the back wall while Isabela watched. Once he reached it, he pushed on an otherwise unremarkable spot of wall, and the sound of a small latch clicked from behind it. Opening the door, Anders nodded for Shea to enter.

"You only need to ask," Anders said quietly enough that Isabela couldn't hear him, the corners of his lips twitching upward when Shea smiled up at him. "But don't be surprised if I crawl in there with you one day," he teased, finally breaking into a genuine smile when Shea's face lit up as red as the banners outside the chantry.

"I wouldn't mind that," Shea said softly, then bit his lower lip and lowered his head, ducking back into the dark room to lay down on Anders' cot.

"Does he do that often?" Isabela asked when Anders returned, this time taking the chair rather than the barrel.

"Two or three times a week."

"He asks me at least twice, and I heard from Varric he's spent a night or two in his bed too."

Anders raised a brow. "Really?" With a coy smile, Isabela nodded and slipped her feet into Anders’ lap, nudging her toes against one of his hands until he lifted them to absently rub the soles of her feet, his fingers glowing with pulsing orange light. "That's a bit odd. I wouldn't want to spend more time than necessary with that uncle of his, but what about his mother and sister?"

Isabela sat back on her hands, wriggling her feet when Anders ran calloused fingers across the soft pads of her toes. "Last time he came by he said he couldn't sleep. I bought him a couple of flagons of ale and he admitted that his father used to have to use some kind of sleep magic to help him get through the night."

"His sleep issues must be serious if his father was sedating him. Perhaps I ought to offer." Anders pressed his thumbs into the arch of her foot firmly, and she groaned happily, oozing forward more so that her ankles and calves were resting his lap along with her feet.

"I was thinking we might just try wearing him out the old fashioned way."

Anders paused in rubbing his thumb in a slow circle around her heel and frowned thoughtfully. "He's really young. I'm not sure he's that much older than his sister, and she's just turned nineteen."

"Are you worried to take advantage of a blushing virgin?" Isabela asked, wagging her other foot at him to indicate that he should rub that one too. "He might blush, but he's no virgin."

"He told you this, did he?"

"He's a talkative drunk."

"So that ale you bought him wasn't out of the goodness of your heart, was it?"

"You know I have no goodness in my heart, Tiger. All wickedness--more corruption than the black city." Anders rolled his eyes. "I'm not suggesting we swoop in and seduce him like desire demons. He's been flirting with me since we met, and I see those puppy eyes he gives you."

"Well..." Anders released Isabela's foot, ignoring her pout as he sat back fully in his chair, lacing his fingers behind his head. "I don't think sex is ever an answer to a possible medical problem."

"I'll have you know I fucked the scurvy out of a sailor once."

"I thought you never touched your crew."

"She wasn't one of mine, but I would have made an exception for her if she'd joined me." Isabela sighed dreamily. "But I'm serious about Shea. I'll bet you sovereigns to sweetmeats that he's just dying for the opportunity." Leaning forward, she lowered her voice to a dangerous, smooth pitch. "He's fascinated by you, and he wants me terribly. We could give him exactly what he desires." She sat back then, stretching her arms over her head, lacing her fingers. She pushed her chest out as she stretched, a low, contented grown rumbling through her. "It certainly won't cure anything, but it might put his worries out of his mind for a while." 

Anders glanced at the back wall, at the door that was hidden now that it was shut. "He's not...not someone I could just..." Anders lowered his gaze to his hands, which were folded lightly in his lap. "He deserves better," he said gravely, after a long pause. "He deserves more."

"After all the time I've know you, you still think I don't understand you?" Isabela lifted one boot from the desk beside her to tug it on. "I'm not suggesting a quick tumble. Well, not for you, at least."

"And after all this time, you still think I don't know you," Anders countered, leaning across her legs to grab the other boot. "You care. You always care."

"You're always trying to ruin my reputation," she grumbled, but she smiled when he eased the other boot onto her foot. "I'm no good, and you know it." Hopping off of the desk, she crossed her arms under her beasts and looked down at Anders in his chair. "Shall I leave you to wallow in misery among the huddled masses while I divest Varric of his coin?"

"I don't want to leave Shea alone," he said immediately, then ducked his head when Isabela smirked. "But give Varric my best."

"Mm-hmm." Cupping Anders' chin, Isabela tipped his head upwards and pressed her lips firmly to his. "Think of how pretty he would be between us. Those freckles, that tight little arse..."

"Go play cards," Anders said sternly, but the face he hid in his hands was flushed pink, and as he heard the sound of the clinic door shut behind her, he knew she was right.


End file.
